The New Girl

Chapter 20- Mistletoe

I drive into the parking lot of the local grocery store and park my car at the closest spot I can find.

I had promised Penelope that I would bring some wine to the party and I needed to pick up a few food items for myself as well. Shutting the car door, I nearly slip on the icy black top beneath my feet. If it weren't for my quick reflexes, I probably would've ended up flat on the ground.

Walking into the store I grab a basket— I won't need a cart, I'm only getting a few things— and I head towards the alcohol aisle. Once I pick out two bottles of wine, I grab some bread and peanut butter and head to the checkout area.

I wish the cashier a happy holiday even though it's only the 23rd and collect my purchases before heading back out into the cold. Just after I close my car door, I hear my phone chirp.

It's a text from Garcia asking if I'm still coming tonight. I quickly confirm that I "can't wait" before slipping my phone back into my bag and backing out of the parking space.

***

"Shit," I curse after nearly dropping one of the wine bottles as I was trying to set it on my counter with my hands full.

I tuck my hair behind both my ears and take a deep breath. I check the time on my watch: Emily should be back soon. I shuffle into my bedroom and groan as I take my boots off.

Sighing as I flop onto my bed, I feel something under my back. I pull it out and notice that it's Emily's sweater. I sit up and look at it before bringing it to my nose and inhaling her comforting scent into my lungs.

It smells earthy, like a combination of smoky wood and herbs. It's not a strong smell like a fruity candle or a perfume. It's much more muted than that.

Holding the warm fabric to my face, I feel a sense of safety; a comforting warmth. At the same time, it causes a lump to form in my throat as I feel myself wishing she was here with me; not just her sweater.

I can't describe it. It's the greatest and worst feeling in the world. A complete loss of control— control being one of my most valued possessions. I've let myself become vulnerable in this relationship, as much as I've tried not to.

Suddenly, a wave of embarrassment rushes over me and I set her sweater back on my bed, shaking my head.

I stand up and adjust my shirt, clearing my throat before looking up from the floor. In my peripheral, I see a figure. I jolt my head to the left, doing a double take before realizing it's Emily.

Fuck.

I must have been so zoned in on her stupid sweater that I didn't even notice her come in.

"Emily! How- how long have you been standing there?" I say, hoping that she didn't see me smelling her sweater like some obsessive stalker.

A smirk is painted across her face and her arms are crossed as she leans against the doorway. 'Of course she has to look that hot catching me doing something incredibly embarrassing,' I muse to myself.

"Long enough to know that, apparently, you have a thing for smelling my..." she looks over to the fabric sitting on my bed, "sweaters?" she questions me and my face turns red.

"It's not what it looks like. I- I was just... seeing if it was clean. I was about to do a load of laundry," I stammer, lying through my teeth. "Oh just admit it. You're a dirty little sweater-sniffer," she points her finger at me, accusingly rotating it in little circles and I push it away as I shove past her.

"Shut up," I mutter stepping toward my dresser. Emily grasps my wrist and I twist my neck around, glancing back at her. She brushes a strand of hair behind my ear and I see that her demeanor has changed from teasing to sincere.